Can't talk. I'm at the Tulsa Sheriff's office with a bunch of rednecks. I bet I'm the only one that voted for Obama.
I bet you're the only one who could read the ballott.
Whatever. I'll let someone else deal with his flacid penis.
On the couch having a debate with the dog over whether eating anothr sweet roll will make the hangover better or worse
we went from five shot glasses to three in one night. we lost 'badass' and gumbi, but the ninja turtle survived. courtney says to avoid any more casualties we're not allowed to use shot glasses past 1am. and we're not allowed to throw them
Brett got me a cake with a pic of me shitting
I just sent an "I'm sorry I forged a prescription in your name" email. It was one of the more awkward things I've done this week.
She didn't complain to the library attendant about us being too loud. She complained after you grabbed her highlighter off the table to stir vodka into your tumbler with.
He came back with a Butterfinger and vibrator batteries. There's no refusing him now.
So the other day we finished having sex and he literally said "what are we going to do about your vagina?" Like, I hadn't even dismounted him yet.
Getting a UTI was SO NOT on my wishlist for the holidays
He's gone. He left a note but all it says is "Dear Neil" followed by a drawing of a hand flipping the bird in the direction of a butt.
You "drove" the computer chair around the party for a good fifteen minutes. you would crash into things, freak out, and yell for an ambulance.
I gotta stop fucking the bouncers. We are running out of bars to go to.
I think I fell asleep on my pizza last night. Damn, I am sauccccy.
I don’t have enough daddy issues for this shit, make him go away
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